Glassy Waters
by Matriaya
Summary: A chance encounter by the lake brings out tenderness unknown. pure fluff! r/r please!
1. Ginny's POV

Title: Glassy Waters Author: Matriaya Disclaimer: The characters and setting are owned by Warner Brothers and the must-loved goddess of writing, J.K Rowling Dedication: this one goes out to Anime, who got me hooked on D/G, and Anitha, who I've recently turned into a fanfic whore Notes: I just got hooked on D/G ficcies after reading Jade's "Our Winter," used to be H/Hr. still am, but the couple doesn't seem to be doing too well so… D/G is so much better! Its my first of their fic, so I hope you enjoy! Draco's POV will be up as soon as I can write it. Oh, r/r please! I beg of you, I'm desperate!  
  
******  
  
~Part 1 – Ginny's POV~  
  
The night was crisp and cool, I remember it as if it were just moments ago. Like I had so many other sleepless evenings, I paced frantically the large expanse of the lake, silently beating myself up for not being "good enough" for the absolute god of a boy, Harry James Potter. Ever since I saw him on the platform when he was entering his first year at Hogwarts, I knew it was destiny - we were meant to be together. The fact that he had saved me from death's icy grip (a.k.a Tom Riddle) only further proved my point. Unfortunately, the queen of knowledge Miss Hermione Granger had to throw a wrench in my perfect plan, and fall in love with him herself. As the story goes, friends became lovers, and I was eternally banished from the Gryffindor common room, lest I wish to view a snogging session of theirs. Thus I was banished to my nightly walks around the lake, praying furverently that some vicious hungry squid would wrap me up in its slimy tentacles and drag me to the bottom of the ocean to slowly feed at my brain until I was thoroughly dead. To me, it seemed a gentle fluffy escape from the hours of heartbreak that I was experiencing, but Harry - whom I was still desperately in love with - seemed entirely oblivious too!  
  
It was in my tearful state that I first glimpsed him, alone and almost vulnerable as the moonlight kissed his pale skin. Draco Malfoy. I'd seen him before of course, in the hallways at school. In all truth he was supposed to be my arch enemy; he was constantly antagonizing my brother, and our fathers were sworn enemies. Though Harry hadn't said anything, I knew it was Lucius Malfoy who had slipped Tom Riddle's diary into my cauldron that day in the book shop. That alone should have made me instantly turn around and run in the other direction when I saw Draco by the lake, but something akin to curiosity tugged persistently at my mind.  
  
Never before, on my small escapes from sanity, had I seen another person by the lake. Though there were no stated rules against it, walking by the lake was frowned upon by teachers. That besides, the first chill of autumn licked the wind, making conditions outside a bit nippier than usual. Everyone would much rather laugh and talk, curled up next to a raging fire in their common rooms.  
  
A gnawing curiosity drove me forward, but the knowledge of danger and uncertainty kept me wary. Silent as a shadow, I crept closer to him. He was sitting on a small grassy outcropping that jutted into the lake a few feet - my usual spot to sit and think. Years of prejudice against his family made my first reaction wonder what he was up too. It couldn't be good: he was a Malfoy after all. Not until I got closer did that silly notion shake off and I realized he was simply staring out into the inky black waters of the lake. Perhaps he wanted to be alone, was my next thought. That, of course, was quickly dismissed on the basis that he was intruding on my time at the lake. Still, I couldn't bring myself to rudely barge in on whatever musing made him completely oblivious to reality.  
  
The usual smug grin and judging glare were absent from his face, and a look of unsettled thoughtfulness replaced them. Being perfectly frank he looked very... well... un-Malfoy. I was close to him now, and my attempt to be as quiet as possible had failed miserably, for in the next instant he snapped his head around and looked up at me with startled eyes. Startled silver eyes, that gleamed like liquid diamonds in the moonlight - catching me as off guard as him.  
  
"Weasly."  
  
He spat out the one word as if it burned his tongue. I flinched despite myself, and controlled the urge to turn around and run full speed back to the safety of my common room. Instead, I walked even closer to him - trying not to cringe as he openly scrutinized my appearance.  
  
"It's Ginny if you don't mind," I told him curtly, "Mr. Malfoy."  
  
It was absolutely amazing how he made me feel as if I were no bigger than the grass beneath my feet in the space of a second. The previously philosophic look was quickly replaced by his usual sneer, and the previously "liquid diamonds" cut into her with a painful anger. A snort was his only response, then he turned back to the lake, instantly forgetting I was ever there at all. This again would've been a perfectly wonderful time to leave him to his own and continue wallowing in my own tears, but something inside made me stay.  
  
"I haven't seen you here before," I said with formality, settling myself down on the outcrop; as far away from him as I could get without falling in.  
  
"I'm sorry," his voice dripped with distain. "I didn't realize you owned the lake."  
  
The smallest bit of fear crept up inside of me, twisting and turning, snaking its way through my bloodstream until it reached my brain. Lucius was a cruel man, cruel enough to attempt to kill me, and Draco was his son. Who's to say the cruelness didn't run in the family? I cast my gaze down at the endlessly black waters that rippled slightly a foot below me. It seemed to mirror so perfectly my emotions. The only person that mattered in the world thought me simply "the silly little sister of his best friend" and the only girl who'd ever bothered to talk to me, outside of asking me questions about homework, had stolen his heart from my willing grasp. A single tear slid, unbidden, down my cheek and dropped into the water, making it shift with ripples.  
  
"You're crying," his voice interrupted my thoughts. A surprising touch of gentleness accompanied that statement, one that made me glance up sharply.  
  
"No I'm not," I instantly spat back, throwing protective walls around me instantly. The obvious redness of my eyes betrayed me, but I was determined not to let him see my weakness. It would only prove to be one more thing he could taunt me about later. To my great surprise, he didn't press the issue. Instead, he turned his gaze back out onto the lake - but not before throwing me a curious glance. The situation itself was very unsettling. Two rivals, sitting side by side in a frigid silence on the grassy shores of a silent lake. It was obviously getting me nowhere, and a new and painful memory of walking in on Harry and Hermione in lip-lock began to surface, and more tears threatened to spill. I definitively didn't want to be around Malfoy when it happened. Muttering some inconsequential grumble under my breath, I started to rise. It was then that I noticed the shudder pass through him, and the fact that his face had turned to stone. As much as I hated him, and his family, the little voice in my head screamed to try and ease his pain.  
  
Cursing inwardly the caring spark in my soul, I reached out and place one small hand on his shoulder.  
  
"What's the matter Draco?"  
  
I couldn't, no matter how much spite I felt towards him, make my voice sound any less than truly concerned. That seemed to catch him off guard, and he looked up at me again with those beautiful eyes of liquid steel; only this time his expression didn't change. Instead he looked sad, poignantly mournful as if crying over the past, and slid his gaze back out over the lake. There. He didn't want to talk to me. Time to go back up to the common room and sniffle over my own heartbreak! Yet I couldn't.  
  
"I know we hate each other and all, but maybe if you talk about it, it will make you feel better," I offered sweetly. Ron would surely kill me if he knew what I was doing, consorting with the enemy. For that instant though, with the moonlight on his face and a deep pain reflecting in his eyes, he became less of the serpent and more of a man.  
  
I hadn't actually expected him to open up to me. I figured he would push himself roughly off the ground, mumbling something about it being none of my business, and storm back to the school in a huff. Which is why I was thoroughly surprised when he started to speak, his rich voice low and soft.  
  
"I got a letter from Father yesterday," he told me, keeping his eyes glued to the lake. "He wants to pull me out of Hogwarts."  
  
A small crumpling sound distracted me for a moment, and I noticed the wadded up paper clutched in his fingers. He let fall gently to the ground, and I picked it up. Carefully unfolding it and smoothing out the wrinkles, I read:  
  
Draco-  
  
I want you out of that school immediately.  
  
You begin your term at Mansfield in two weeks.  
  
Have your trunk ready, I'll send my assistant to pick you up.  
  
That thought should've sent me soaring to the stars. The boy who tormented my family and friends to no end would finally be out of our life forever! Yet seeing the pain on his face, I couldn't help but share in his gloom.  
  
"Oh God Draco," I murmured out, sitting myself back down next to him. "I'm so sorry. Can't you just ask to stay?"  
  
Wrong thing to say.  
  
He threw a stone he'd managed to weasel out of the dirt path, and it landed with a little plop out a ways into the water - the ripples glistening in the moonlight.  
  
"You don't know my father, Ginny. He hates Hogwarts; has ever since Dumbledore became headmaster." he spat out roughly. I'd never seen him quite so... mad before. Spiteful or taunting, sure, but never anything really meaningful.  
  
"Maybe if you just talked to him... told him how you felt..." I started, but was cut off by a quick wave of his hand.  
  
"No, no! It won't work! It..." his voice went from loud to soft, "I can't do it."  
  
Confusion was the main thing on my mind. Who was this boy in front of me, opening up and sharing his secrets? Certainly not the Draco Malfoy that I had come to know.  
  
"You won't know unless you try."  
  
He winced at this, and held out his hand.  
  
"I already have."  
  
A small gasp escaped my lips, and I stared down in horror at his palm. There, standing out against the pale white, was a deep red scar that slashed the length of his palm. It almost looked as if it had been burned in, I noted. At first no words would come, only a nauseating sense of fear and disgust. Who on Earth could do such a monstrous thing? Draco squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away.  
  
"My father," he answered my silent question in a strangled whisper. "I tried to convince him to let me stay at Hogwarts. He didn't take it well at all. Went at me with a knife he keeps hidden in his desk. Mighta hit my face if my hand hadn't been in the way."  
  
His answer rendered me speechless. Silence, heavy and thick as fog, hung between us for a long moment - robbing me of breath. The next thing I did caught me by complete surprise. Reaching down, I took his hand gently and traced the scar with a feather-light touch. So many times in the past I had wished nothing more than to rip all the hair from his head, and inflict as much pain as possible onto his oily little body. Now though, I would give anything to take it away. It scared me almost as much to know that something could break such a strong willed and stubborn person like Draco, as it did to see the scar.  
  
"Why were you crying?" he asked me suddenly, shattering the silence. A deep red flush to match my hair crept up my neck, staining my cheeks. Fresh tears formed behind my eyes, and I cursed each and every one of them. Quickly dropping his hand and wiping them away, I shook my head and turned away. I couldn't' let him see me like this - it would only come back to haunt me later. The chill of the wind seemed to crystallize the tears, and tossed my hair lightly about.  
  
"I know we hate each other and all, but maybe if you talk about it, it will make you feel better," he teased gently, stealing my previous words. Laughter bubbled up in my throat, and the tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of my lips.  
  
"Harry," I mumbled out before I could stop myself. The instant the words passed through my mouth, I regretted it. All traces of a grin dropped away from Draco's face and only a look of hatred remained.  
  
"Saint Potter," he growled out, looking out at the glassy water. Over and over in my head were a million howling voices, screaming and yelling at me for mentioning Harry Potter. Of course Draco wouldn't understand... he was a Malfoy after all! He probably thought I was a piddling fool for my silly infatuation.  
  
"You shouldn't let what that git thinks get to you," he said, "he's too stuck on that brainy Granger to see what he's missing."  
  
Most of his sentence washed over me, without actually sinking in. The "brainy Granger" part however, stuck like a knife.  
  
"It hurts too much," I found myself crying, sobbing, tears running freely down my cheeks. "He doesn't even notice me!"  
  
Draco looked directly at me then, with a deadly serious spark in his eyes, and said,  
  
"You're too good for him."  
  
The weirdest sensation, a beautiful warmth, started in my chest and shivered all the way down to my toes. I stared at him as if for the first time, noticing now the pale loveliness of his face, and the blonde sheen in his hair. And those eyes... staring at me now with a silvery blaze; so hot it burned. Still, I cried. It was impossible to stop now, the tears jus kept coming. His words filled me with a sense of worth, but all the times Harry ignored me... I couldn't get them out of my head. My racking sobs slashed viciously at the pristine silence surrounding us. Looking back, what I found most fascinating about the whole situation is that he let me cry. On any other given day he would've mocked me and my water display with all the meanest he had, but today he let me cry. He didn't even touch me, but his presence alone had a soothing affect.  
  
Several longs minutes, dragging out into eternity, passed by before the tears finally subsided and I was left with sniffles and puffy eyes.  
  
"You'll find the right guy some day Ginny." he told me gently, smiling tenderly. "Potter doesn't deserve you."  
  
I nodded and laughed nervously, despite myself. The adrenaline pumping through my system during my little breakdown was now wearing off, leaving me extremely exhausted.  
  
"I'm tired Draco," I heard myself mumble, though my head was quickly spiraling into unconsciousness. Without even realizing it, I had scooted over right next to him. Unable to hold my head up, I let it drop to the nearest pillow; which at the moment was his shoulder. Fighting a few seconds longer to keep my eyes open, I reached down and took up the scarred hand in mine. The last sensation I felt before slipping completely into dreamland was that of his fingers gently lacing through mine. When at last I drifted off, the greatest sense of comfort crept into my heart. Everything was going to be all right. 


	2. Draco's POV

~Part 2- Draco's POV~  
  
(Okay, I know it took me a while to get this next part up but I just got back from vacation. Its rather un-Draco towards the end but its very romantic so I hope you enjoy! D/G forever! p.s. if you have any fanfics you want me to read, email me! I'm dying to find some good ones!)  
  
~~~~~  
  
I never thought life could get any lonelier than it already was. Then I got the letter from my father. That stung something fierce, drilling endless taunting holes into my brain until I thought I was going to pass out. Then the mental pain turned physical a single slash of a knife, and everything I used to cling to came crashing down. I had always known my father was a cruel man. Though he tried to keep it a secret that in fact he was a Deatheater, his loyalties to You-Know-Who were apparent. His malicious attitude towards anyone and everyone lower than us is what drove me to achieve social popularity at Hogwarts in the first place.  
  
All his lessons in life taught me that weaklings would not be tolerated, and people of lower stature or those not full magick had no place in society and therefore should be snubbed. It had never occurred to me, however, that he might hit people. House elves - most definitely. Lower class people - on occasion. But his own son? Never. Until just a few days ago that is. I dont know what hurt me more: the deep wound in my hand or the shock at knowing that my father intentionally hurt me.  
  
The common room had become too choked with people - too much laughter and guffawing that I couldnt' stomach at the moment. So I ran away. Just like one of those sniveling Griffyndors, I turned tail and ran straight out until I hit water. Then, completely out of breath, I collapsed on the grass. I have no clue how long I sat there, staring past the water into murky nothingness; reviewing over and over the situation in my head. Why did I have to leave Hogwarts? Why now? It was the middle of the year, I had numerous friends and admirers, I practically ruled the Slytherin house...  
  
Not that any of it mattered to him of course. Oh no, it was a pure blood school or nothing. I had no say in the matter whatsoever. Any attempt to say what I meant would come to a violent end. Blinking would've been a nice idea; my eyes were dry and my mind completely numb. It didn't make any sense. I didn't want to leave! In amongst my internal screaming I almost missed the sound of footsteps behind me. There it was though, creeping up closer behind me. As I whipped my head around, I was half expecting it to be Crabbe or Goyle sneaking up to tease me. That was why, when I perceived in reality who it was, I was completely blown away.  
  
Ginny Weasley stared at me like a deer caught in the headlights - her emerald eyes opened wide. No... it couldn't be Ginny. The Ginny I knew was a mousy little girl with stringy red hair and those classic hideous Weasley freckles. This girl was... an angel. Her vibrant fiery hair was windblown, falling in cascades around a beautiful moonlight-kissed face. Freckles, that before were a mark of lower-class and "Weasley"-ism, now dusted her nose lightly, and only added to her luminous beauty. Only one flaw in the canvas of beauty she had become stood out to me: her eyes were red. She'd been crying. It was a sin to make angels cry...  
  
Whoa, what was I saying? This was Ginny Weasley here! One of the targets I use to throw insults at on a daily basis! Our fathers were sworn enemies; he'd kill me if he looked inside my head at the moment. Plastering my usual smug sneer onto my face, I growled out,  
  
"Weasley."  
  
Oh God, how long had she been standing there? How much had she seen? I was supposed to be Draco Malfoy, the unbeatable, unemotional bad boy who was hard as glass. Yet here I sat, weak and defenseless, completely out of my usual disguise.  
  
"Its Ginny if you dont mind," she sniffed with an air of formality, "Mr. Malfoy."  
  
The title she'd pinned on me was spat off her tongue as if it hurt. She was mocking me! That little sniveling... God she had beautiful eyes. They were green, but not a plain boring green like Potter's. Hers were a shifting, shimmering sea of emeralds, hid deceptively under a curtain of auburn lashes. And so expressive! They'd gone from fear to formality in less than a split second, always hiding an undertone of uncertainty. "I haven't seen you here before," she told me, settling herself down.  
  
I'd gotten used to sensing fear - it was part of what helped me become the bad ass that I was. I learned from the best, my father was the master. She was oozing it at the moment, sitting as far away from me as she could.  
  
"I'm sorry," I bit out, upholding my act, "I didn't realize you owned the lake."  
  
Ah, good old sarcasm. Always an effective tool when degrading your opponent. Ginny had fallen silent though, not even retaliating weakly like her loser older brother would've done. Then I saw the tear slide down her cheek. One single tear, glistening in the moonlight, as it traced a trail down her silken cheek and landed in the lake.  
  
"You're crying," I stated. For that instant, I let all my guards down and filled my response with emotion - real emotion. The puffiness I'd seen earlier was indeed caused by tears. She looked up at me sharply, and I almost flinched; physically feeling as she pushed walls up around herself.  
  
"No I'm not!" she responded immediately, denying everything. Damnit. Why wasn't she letting me in? Thats a stupid question...  
  
If she wanted to be left alone, she'd be left alone. I didn't have time to brood over other people's problems anyway, even if her tear did burn a hole in my heart...  
  
Burn. My cut burned. It stung something fierce right then; I kept my face stony so as not to show the pain. The lake in front of me was so delightfully void of everything: color, emotion, life. If only I could be like it, or join it. Become one with it. All my current problems would melt away, dissolving in the inky blackness of the lake, and the scarred hand would be severed by the creatures beneath so I couldn't have to feel it any more. Numbed by the biting ice of the lake, I wouldnt have to feel anything anymore. Life would become one big blur.  
  
Or rather, the life that was rapidly being drained from me would pass in a big blur. Nothing trivial comes to mind when you're dying. Its all important stuff. Then you dont think at all, and peace sets in. It was that peace that I longed for, but that peace that was so far away.  
  
"Whats the matter Draco?" her calm voice dragged me out of my thoughts. Startled, I looked over at her. That precious green in her eyes had turned to honey, stealing all the breath from my body. For someone who was before so inconsequential, she sure was meaningful now. Yet I couldn't bring myself to tell her, it was still too painful. She wouldnt understand anyway, her family was perfect!  
  
With 5 older brothers and two loving parents, life couldn't get much simpler. How cold I possibly describe the twisted situation I'd landed myself in? Talking about it would make it all too real, denial was a much better route. "I know we hate each other and all, but maybe if you talk about it, it will make you feel better!" she told me, peering at me with those big green innocent eyes. If only she knew...  
  
"I got a letter from Hogwarts yesterday," I spilled out, "He wants to pull me out of Hogwarts."  
  
I hadn't even meant to say anything; it just sort of... drained. Well now the truth was out, the wound was opened. Whether or not she healed it or rubbed in salt, only time would tell. For an instant, some of the anger did recede. It was quickly replaced by a deep sadness. In an attempt to hide the pain, I concentrated on the shifting black of the water. Better, I thought, than looking at the sympathy - no, pity - in her eyes. Gently loosening my clenched fist, I let the crumpled letter drop from my hand. It was quickly snatched up by her slender fingers. Thankfully she read the letter silently, although if wouldn't have mattered either way. I already had it memorized - its horrid contents engraved forever in my brain.  
  
"Oh God Draco, I'm so sorry. Cant you just ask to stay?" she asked quietly. She meant it to be helpful, it was true, but the unstoppable rush of memories it brought back were too painful.  
  
"You don't know my father, Ginny. He hates Hogwarts; has ever since Dumbledore became headmaster." I told her. Again, it struck me as weird. Why in the name of all things holy was I telling a Weasley my life's problems? Because she was there... because something in her eyes made me want to bare my soul. (I liked the first reason a bit better.)  
  
"Maybe if you just talked to him... told him how you felt..." she started, but I waved her voice away. If only she knew...  
  
"No no! It wont work! It..." all the feeling left my body in a whoosh. "I cant do it." Tendrils of dread crept up from the pit of my stomach, winding up my throat, threatening to choke me.  
  
"You wont know unless you try." It was obvious she was trying to sound reassuring, but its happiness got lost somewhere in the pit of my despair. I was miserable, I couldnt get any worse, she might as well know the truth. Without looking at her, I held out my hand. Even the thought of the seared flesh hurt.  
  
"My father," I explained, a million bad feelings choking me. "I tried to convince him to let me stay at Hogwarts. He didn't take it well at all. Went at me with a knife he keeps hidden in his desk. Mighta hit my face if my hand hadn't been in the way."  
  
The silence that claimed her then burned more than the stinging in my palm. I could almost hear her thoughts. Its his fault, for having a father like he does. He probably deserves it. Which is why, when she took my hand gently in hers, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Her slender fingers traced the scar gently, delicately. The expression on her face shot needles through my heart. Pure, untainted concern. It wasn't possible. In no universe did I deserve even the slightest care from this ethereal angel before me, and yet here she was, showing me more tenderness than I'd ever received in my life.  
  
"Why were you crying?"  
  
The question rolled of my tongue before I could stop it. It had been gnawing at my mind all night, what Beast made Beauty cry? It was obviously not something she wanted to talk about, it was evident by the delicious blush that stained her cheeks. What really had me beating myself up was the pearl tears that she was trying so hard to hold back. The chilling caress of the wind tossed her hair lightly, making it glisten in the moonlight.  
  
God she was beautiful.  
  
"I know we hate each other and all, but maybe if you talk about it, it will make you feel better," I repeated her words with playful teasing, and was rewarded by the smallest of pretty smiles. At least I was getting somewhere, its better than tears.  
  
"Harry," she mumbled softly. A bullet of anger smashed into my chest, shattering the bubble of happiness and flooding in anger.  
  
"Saint Potter," I growled, turning my burning gaze to the lake. How dare he hurt her? I oughta kill him for that. So much rage swelled in my chest I thought I would rip open. And oh how I wanted to punch something; namely Harry's face at the moment. Though I didn't look at her directly, I could feel all the sadness pouring from her body, swirling around me - taunting me. Potter had been ignoring her for years. He never saw what was right in front of him...  
  
"You shouldn't let what that git thinks get to you," I told her, "he's too stuck on that brainy Granger to see what he's missing."  
  
A kind, tender, caring, beautiful angel. The fact that she was a Weasly had almost completely slipped my mind but now came back in full force. Should I really be sitting here discussing my life's problems with one of that clan?  
  
"It hurts too much!" she started to sob now, her willowy body shaking as she spoke, "he doesn't even notice me!"  
  
Yep, I should be.  
  
Racking my brain like mad, I searched frantically for a way to ease her pain, to kill the hurt that Potter had caused her. Turning to her, looking directly into those enchanting emerald eyes, I firmly said,  
  
"You're too good for him."  
  
She cried, each tear drop that hit the ground shook my soul. But there was no longer a choking feeling of distress surrounding her now. She had let me in. I wanted so much to reach out and touch her, to reach out and stroke her silky auburn hair, but I stopped myself. Ginny needed to cry. As painful as it was to watch, it would help her heal.  
  
Minutes passed as I watched emotion after emotion being painted on the canvas of her freckled face. Finally her crying subsided and she was reduced to a red-eyed sniffling, trembling mass. Finally she looked up at me, eyes gleaming with embarrassment and gratitude.  
  
"You'll find the right guy some day Ginny," I told her, smiling warmly. "Potter doesn't deserve you."  
  
And I meant every word of it.  
  
She nodded and released a small laugh. Exhaustion was clearly visible across her face. Silently, probably without realizing it, she scooted over next to me and lay her head on my shoulder and whispered,  
  
"I'm tired Draco."  
  
As she reached down and took up my hand in hers, running a finger weakly down the scar one last time, I knew right then and there that my heart was no longer my own. This amazing little red-head had somehow weaseled her way into even the deepest caverns of my heart, and filled it with tenderness previously unknown. Without even realizing it, I laced my fingers through hers, just as her body went lax and she fell into sleep.  
  
It felt incredibly right, here, our fingers entwined. Suddenly the fear that I felt for life, for my father, melted away. All I could fell was Ginny. Laying my head on hers, I allowed the silky seductiveness of sleep to draw me in. Tomorrow was another day, a new day, and now I had an angel to help me through.  
  
The End 


End file.
